“Prima vera”
Beside colored leaves,
Crisp and cool,
The awaiting bud.
Opaque ornamentation clings
To naked branches
Still dormant.
Blood-red, burnt-orange and amber,
The death of days gone by,
Surrounded by life.
Sun rises,
As did the Son,
Illuminating and irradiating.
White light shines down,
Revealing the spectrum
Unseen before.
Soon, blooming in full,
Flowers fill the fields,
Prima vera echoes again.
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